


what you want

by breakeven



Series: stony kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Sex, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 02:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21008240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakeven/pseuds/breakeven
Summary: Tony shoulder checks Rogers on his way out the room, “Right, right. Real mature of our benevolent dictator here,” he calls behind him, slamming the door as he goes.Tony has barely made it to his room before there’s a hand on his arm, gripping harshly to turn him around. He gasps at the grip, tries to snatch his arm away, but finds that whoever is holding him is way too strong for that.kinktober day 12: angry sex





	what you want

**Author's Note:**

> let's pretend it's still 2012 and steve and tony haven't spent the better part of a decade making heart eyes at each other from afar. title from "belong to you" by sabrina claudio

“You must think you’re so goddamn smart huh? You must think you’re real hot shit,” Steve growls, nostrils flaring, a blush riding high on his cheeks. His jaw is clenched, like he wants to say more, wants to do more. He probably doesn’t want to be the person that flies off the handle, especially with the rest of the team watching. Steve cares a lot about what they think, about his reputation as their fearless leader. That’s okay with Tony, he has no problem taking it there at all. This is all bullshit anyway; he’s a grown ass man, he’ll do and say and go where the hell he pleases. He doesn’t need some—some fucking kid waltzing in the place trying to tell him how to live his life. The fact that he’s willing to defer to Steve in the field should be enough, but apparently that’s not the case.

“Yes, I do,” Tony shrugs, “I have been given plenty of reason to believe I’m pretty smart. Smarter than you, smarter than everyone in this fucking building, actually. I thought we covered this.”

Steve’s scowl deepens, and he takes a step forward in those ridiculous boots, “You know what? You’re right. We did cover this,” he’s in Tony’s face now, his eyes bright with rage, “Guess I’m just confused as to why a genius like you is too fucking _stupid_ to underst-,”

“Cap,” Natasha interrupts, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Steve turns to her and sneers, then, surprised with himself, clenches his fist and takes a step back. Tony hasn’t forgotten about their audience, he simply doesn’t care. His reputation has preceded him in almost every social interaction of his life. Playing the bad guy is nothing new to him. Tony can’t wait to see how the good captain devolves though. Perhaps it’ll bring him down a peg or two, having everyone see him for the angry little man he really is.

Tony raises a brow, “To stupid to understand what, exactly, Steve?” he challenges, and makes up the space Steve has put between them by stepping forward. Someone, he assumes Clint, sucks their teeth in exasperation, and then a door slams, signaling that they’ve left. Tony doesn’t look away from the other man though, tilts his chin up defiantly as they stare each other down. The tension in the room is thick, palpable, and something about it has Tony’s dick twitching in interest.

“This is ridiculous,” Steve scoffs, breaking the moment, “Next time you pull some shit like that, I’m benching you Stark. I’m not gonna argue with you like—like we’re children.” He turns to walk away and for some reason, Tony just can’t let it go. Something about confrontation with Rogers is terribly intoxicating, and Tony is loathe to admit that he seeks the thrill of it occasionally. There’s just something about ruffling Rogers’s feathers, seeing him be a little less sure of himself, that satisfies a mean, hungry part of Tony’s mind.

So Tony shoulder checks Rogers on his way out the room, “Right, right. Real mature of our benevolent dictator here,” he calls behind him, slamming the door as he goes.

Tony has barely made it to his room before there’s a hand on his arm, gripping harshly to turn him around. He gasps at the grip, tries to snatch his arm away, but finds that whoever is holding him is way too strong for that.

“What the h-?” he begins angrily, his adrenaline spiking once again when he’s met with the glaring face of Steve Rogers. They pause for one brief moment before their lips are crashing together in a clash of gnashing teeth and snarling breaths.

And the thing is, Tony’s been hoping for this for quite some time. He and Steve have a very particular relationship, one based off of mutual stress inducing pigtail pulling that consists of nearly dying and giving in to their more self-destructive tendencies. Every time Tony is forced to watch Steve jump from planes with not parachute, or race to catch him as he dives from buildings with no trouble, his heart drops into his stomach and he simultaneously wants to wring the guy’s neck, tuck him in for a nap, and kiss him stupid. It’s frustrating and he can’t imagine Steve feels much differently when he’s angrily visiting Tony in the infirmary for the third time in a month or prying his unconscious body from the dented remains of a suit.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Rogers groans, tearing at Tony’s sweatshirt. He pulls it over Tony’s head quickly, and his huge hands wander over Tony’s stomach and chest until he’s cradling Tony’s head in his hands and jerking him forward into another bruising kiss. Tony moans into it, reaching for Steve’s belt buckle and pulling his half hard cock out, not bothering with any preamble. Steve is long and thick, throbbing in Tony’s hand immediately, and he groans when Tony rubs his thumb over his cockhead.

“Fuck you,” Tony mumbles, “I was right, I did what-,”

“Needed to be done, yeah, yeah.”

Steve backs him further into his own room, kicking the door shut behind him. He pivots then, so Tony is pinned against it, grabbing his wrists and holding them in his iron hold up by his ears, “Don’t scare me like that again Tony,” he whispers brokenly. Tony wants to shout at him, act out in some way because he can’t promise that, he can’t promise not to put himself at risk when that’s literally his job. Instead, he bites at Steve’s bottom lip and bucks his hips, grinding his hard prick against Steve’s thigh.

Eventually, they grunt and gasp into each other’s mouths until they wrestle their way to the bed, Steve tossing him on his back unceremoniously and freeing his dick completely from the confines of his uniform pants, stroking his length a few times. He crawls over Tony, jerks the other man’s pants down his thighs just enough to expose his length, and firmly plants his knees on either side of Tony’s thighs. He takes one hand, large and square palmed, masculine and oh so strong, and wraps it none to gently around Tony’s throat, restricting his airway. Rogers looks like an avenging angel (no pun intended), and Tony’s cock leaks a drop of precome as it gets harder for him to breathe, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You do as I say, you understand?” Steve snarls, eyes dark with power and uncontrollable lust, watching Tony squirm and making his eyes water with lack of oxygen. When Steve finally lets go Tony’s head is swimming and arousal is lighting him on fire from the inside; he’s so horny his stomach hurts.

“Who the hell do you think you are Rogers?” Tony rasps, and before he can let out another smart ass comment, Steve is shoving three fingers into Tony’s mouth, stroking over the fleshy parts at the back of his throat and gagging him. When he pulls away those fingers are covered in stringy saliva, thick and runny, and he uses it as lube when he takes both of their cock in his hand and begins furiously stroking over their hard lengths. Tony writhes as Steve’s foreskin rubs against the silky skin of his own hard prick, his body lighting up at the rough feeling of the post battle scrapes and callouses on Steve’s hands. The younger man presses them together, chest to chest, so that he can whisper in Tony’s ear, once again placing his hand over Tony’s throat and giving a hearty _squeeze_.

“No that’s not the question,” he practically purrs, twisting his hand just so and making Tony see stars. He tries to kick Steve off, put up a bit of a fight, make it seem like he’s not so gone on this, but it’s no use, and that only frustrates him further. “The question is, why pretend like you don’t fucking want it, Stark? Why get me all riled up like this? I’ve known this whole time, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to get you alone, work out some of this pent up energy, yknow?” he rambles.

This time, when he pulls his hand away, Tony’s vision is swimming and he desperately gulps in air, shaking. He’s thrusting his hips up quickly, chasing the beautiful friction and working to come.

“You don’t know shit,” he spits, voice wrecked. Rogers just chuckles and squeezes their members tighter, playing in the precome they’re both leaking.

“I know how badly you’ve wanted me. I can see it Stark, you’re so easy for it. So needy,” he teases. Tony squeezes his eyes shut, orgasm building low in his belly, a coiling hot weight, fighting not to lose himself in the dark tones of Steve’s voice, heart racing, and oxygen depleted brain reeling.

“Oh yeah? And what does that s-say about you, Captain? Following me here like a lost fucking puppy? You must be desperate; you must need this even more than I do. I could have anybody, yknow that? I don’t-don’t _need_ this,” Tony spits.

Steve just laughs, however, “Oh but you do, Stark. You could have anyone and yet here you are, so hard and wet and about to pop, just for me. Just admit it sweet thing, you’ve been—oh _fuck_\---been waiting for this. Fantasizing about it. Bet you jerk you pretty cock just thinking about it, me fucking you over the conference table, sweaty and covered in dirt, holding you down, making you fucking take it. You _like_ this,” he grinds out, his voice going high and breathless. Steve is right; Tony’s thought about this for months, but he’d never admit it. Instead, he yanks Rogers into a kiss, licking past his full bottom lip and sucking on his tongue. Steve groans then, and his pace picks up even further. Fucking his hips forward, shaking the bed even, Steve spits on their cocks and lets out a low rumble, almost a growl. It’s so primal, so red hot and sexy that it sends Tony over the edge first, his dick pulsing and shooting stripes of come over the both of them, painting his stomach. Steve isn’t long after, coming all over Tony’s spent cock and rubbing it in even, watching intently as Tony goes soft in his hands.

They look at each other, loopy after coming so hard and breathing heavily.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” Steve grunts when he collects himself. Tony just rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that this changes everything.

**Author's Note:**

> look imma keep it real with y'all, i don't even know how angry sex is supposed to work and i can't help but make stevetony soft. oops
> 
> twitter: @starkbrncs  
tumblr: nataliabarncs


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